A/N: Thanks to SunflowerFran for her lovely work as beta. Any mistakes are mine.


Edward

The door opened, and Bella stood in front of him, eyes rimmed with red, a dishtowel in her hand.

He was ready for her, his outline planned in his head. After all, wasn't persuasion one of his key strengths? He smiled his most gentle smile at her. "May I come in?"

She bit her lip and nodded jerkily. He closed the door behind him and enfolded her in his arms, pressing his lips to her forehead. She was stiff, and the skin of her wrists and hands was cold.

He took the dishtowel from her and steered her gently to sit on the couch.

"What's wrong?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

She hunched her shoulders. "You're the Captain of Volterra, aren't you."

"I won't lie to you anymore, Bella." He took her hands. "But, please, let me explain. It's not like the rumors say. I—"

"You've never stopped lying to me, have you?"

"I'm not now. Please believe me." She wasn't even giving him a chance to lay out his carefully prepared facts. To tell the truth, as she wanted.

"Did you really—order Emmett to kill Alice?" Her voice fell to a whisper.

Annoyance rose in his throat. "I told you, that was a police sting. Alice's still alive; didn't you see her in school today?" Why did she keep harping on that clumsy playacting scene when there were so many other things that mattered more? Still, he kept his face smooth, his voice quiet. How many times had his life depended on maintaining his calm and emotionless façade?

"Don't lie to me again!" Her voice rose. "Why would the cops come to a gang leader to set up a sting?"

"I'm not lying," he said mildly. "Alice's an undercover cop, and she doesn't know I'm involved with Volterra. She thinks I'm a straight-A student and far too much of a nerd to be involved in anything shady." It was the absolute truth.

She rubbed an eyelid, shaking her head. "Come on."

He took out his laptop. "Here, I'll prove it to you." Surely, truth and logic would win her over. Of course, he could manipulate her emotions instead. He could bend her to his will. But he was different now. He would do things by her rules. He would show her how he had changed. He brought up the letter of immunity from the Forks police department.

Bella scrolled through the document. "You could easily have forged this."

Of course—that was the logical conclusion he would have come to as well. But telling the truth was such a straitjacket. Stating the absolute facts made it so difficult to explain. But he was trying. He opened his eyes wide and let hurt show in them. "You don't believe me?"

"Edward, you've lied to me so often and so well, I just don't know what to think. I find out you're the leader of a gang that terrifies everyone in the school, and right afterward I hear you ordering—" Her voice faded. "I just don't know," she repeated.

He took hold of both of her hands, gazed at her with eyes wide and guileless. "Bella, I swear to you, from the bottom of my heart, by my love for you, that I am telling the truth now." Why wouldn't she trust him? For perhaps the first time in his life, he was deliberately avoiding lies. It was infuriating.

She twisted away from him.

To be honest, to be fair, he shouldn't use their attraction for each other to influence her. But he couldn't help himself. He took her in his arms and kissed her, held her shaking body until her sobs stopped.

He could feel her holding back, and it both saddened and irritated him. He was giving her complete candor. Why did she stubbornly refuse to have faith in him? So what, after all, was the value of truth? It was overrated. Truth only led to trouble. Lies were much better, much smoother, more efficient.

It was too bad that love seemed to require honesty.

Love and trust—he had always assumed they were the emotions of weakness. Not as powerful as fear and intimidation.

But perhaps they were more complex than he had ever imagined. Perhaps he should have delved into them more deeply after all. Had he been wrong all these years?

If only he weren't so busy right now dealing with the police, arranging his various plans around Rapture, and avoiding death threats from Caius, Aro, and James, he could put more attention into studying the art of these strange and foreign emotions. But Bella had already distracted him so much. If he let it go further now, both of their lives would be at risk.

"Have you really done all those things?" she whispered. "What they say the Captain has done? All those horrible, horrible crimes?" Her eyes were wide, hands twisted tightly in her lap.

His smile was its most reassuring. "Of course not. It's all for show so I can keep control of the gang." He tilted his head to one side, as though inviting her in on the truth. "Do you think an overly intellectual nerd with a flair for manipulation and trickery has a chance to survive an encounter with all these criminals? It's so much more effective to convince them that I'm an utterly evil, selfish bastard. Someone with an unpredictable murderous streak and a violent past a mile long. Someone who has all the authorities in his pocket." He lifted his eyebrows. She had to understand: in his world, fear was the only currency. He would have been dead long ago if he hadn't terrified them all. Of course, he had to hurt people. But only death was irrevocable, and he had never killed an innocent. Surely she would understand that.

Bella stared at him. He waited for her to speak, but it was as though she had been struck dumb.

Could he explain the power of fear to her? "They follow me because they're afraid. They cling to my confidence and strength. They don't know what I'm really like."

The words burst out of her like blood spurting from a wound. "What is the real you, Edward? What is your real personality? Do you even know, after all the playacting, after all the roles?"

That wasn't such an easy question to answer honestly. "The truth is, I have many personalities within me, and I can choose which one to display at any time." He reached out, stroked her hair. She sat like a statue, as though she could not feel his touch. "In my deepest self, I detest taking life; it's such a waste. But to the Captain, life means nothing. He kills without thought, without compunction. And so they follow him and obey his every whim, quaking in terror."

His eyes gleamed; he had only been a child when he had first designed the Captain's persona. A powerless child, completely at the mercy of those around him. He had waited in the shadows, observed quietly, watched as others interacted. He had planned everything so carefully. Over the years, he had built the character of the Captain, refined him, improved him. Enhanced his power. Achieved a string of unbroken successes with him.

"You have no idea how compelling the threat of death can be. And so much less costly than actual murder. No bodies to dispose of, no cops to pay off—and it fits in so well with my image. The bodies must have been mysteriously disposed of by my extremely effective organization. The cops are all in my pay. No one dares cross me, and all because of these terrifying rumors about the Captain."

He had the power now. He was the Captain.

No one would hurt that child any longer.

Bella shook her head. She sat rigid, her eyes wide and staring.

Wait. No.

He wasn't really that person.

Was he?

Edward could see it in her eyes. He was losing her. Telling her the truth was destroying her love for him. Desperately, he tried to talk faster, tried to get her to understand. He could not lose her. He would not lose her.

"Bella." He took both her hands in his. "My knowledge of human nature tells me I could manipulate you into staying with me." He shook his head, his eyes intense. "But as a demonstration of good faith, I am being utterly honest with you instead. I'm doing exactly as you asked, simply telling you the truth."

Her smile was bitter. How many times had he manipulated her emotions, gotten her to believe whatever he wanted, spoken with such sincerity in his voice and eyes? "I'm sorry, Edward."

"Come with me," he said. "I promise you I'll leave all this behind. I can start a new life—with you."

"I can't live with all the things you've done."

"Can't you forgive me and allow me a fresh start? I admit that my conscience has been numb for many years. But you can bring it back. And in the meantime, I'll let you be my sense of right and wrong as I promised. I will only do things you approve of." He gazed at her with utter sincerity.

"No. I can't tell what are lies or what are truths from you anymore. You've completely confused me. I don't know which is the real you; I don't even know if it exists."

He held her close, but she sat stiffly in his arms. "I'm here. I'm real. This is real. I love you. Can't you just accept that? Can't you accept me?" His voice was soft, persuasive.

But it didn't matter anymore. She had moved beyond his persuasion.

She pushed him aside and stood. "No. I'm sorry, Edward. I don't want to drag this out any longer. We've all had to make hard choices. I just can't live with the choices you've made. That's all there is to it." A tear leaked out of one of her eyes and trailed down her cheek. "I'm sorry. But I think it would be best if you left now."

Edward sat on the couch. He thought about all the methods he could use to bring her around, how he could win this game as he had always won. His mind arrowed directly to the most straightforward means of obtaining his desires.

The answer, rising from the depths of his consciousness, was clear. It was the moment to turn to the time-tested methods of control and intimidation that he had used so successfully to hold sway over so many others. Sinuously his mind whispered to him. It would be easy. She was powerless, after all. She had nothing—except friends. Friends who were only weaknesses that could be used against her. Threats of violence always worked so beautifully well.

He could see the possible paths laid out before him like spokes in a wheel. He could threaten her. He could threaten her friends. He could make her stay with him. He could own her, the way he owned so many others. It was so easy to bend others to his will. He need only say the words that would bring her into line.

She would become yet another pliant toy in his hands. Another one of the creatures who served him, body and soul. She would never dare to leave.

All he had to do was speak the right words. He could stop telling her the truth, and begin lying to her again. She would be unable to tell the difference.

She would never love him again.

The woman he loved would never exist again.

Every moment, there is a choice; a choice to order one's actions, to sculpt one's own soul. One never goes so far down a dark path that there is no choice. There is always an opportunity for some small redemption, some hope in the midst of irretrievable darkness.

His lips parted to speak, and he let out a long, long breath. "One part of me is telling me now to go back to my old ways, to threaten you." His nostrils flared. "I could do that, but I won't."

He stood and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"Goodbye, Bella."

At the threshold, he paused, glanced at her.

He had always been a patient man. There were still so many lines of strategy yet to play out. These new rules had their challenges, but he could win under any rules. He always did.

It was time to work on the next part of his plan.

Then he walked out the door without looking back.